Phanfiction- The Real Me
by trinitycantfly
Summary: Dan suffers from depression and he cuts. He explains why he feels the way he does and wishes that people could understand. *Mentions of Phil*


_**Dan POV**_

I gritted my teeth as I drug the razor blade across my hip. I knew better than to cut where people could see it. They would only judge me, like they always do, even if they don't realize it.

I hated my cutting. I knew that while my life had been hard, I had been very blessed and the fact that I carved into my skin, well, it was another reason I just wasn't good enough. I wasn't strong enough to handle normal life. I was defective.

I didn't get the instant relief people talked about them getting when they cut, but I did feel the pain. The emotional pain was always there, I would never forget it, but somehow the cutting, the sharp physical pain seemed to numb it some. It didn't seem so bad in comparison.

My hips and upper thighs were littered with scars, some darker and deeper than others. I had good days and I had bad days.

I set the blade down and got into the shower. That's what I always did. I turned on the water and cut. It made Phil think I was just taking a long shower.

I relished the sharp stinging pain as the warm water slid down the open cut on my hips. I numbed the pain even more. The pain of never being good enough. So many people claimed to have love me, but who really would be that upset if I died. I hadn't talked to my family in a while. They might be upset for a little bit but I never saw them now, it wouldn't be much different from now.

The fans might be upset, but they would be fine in the long run. Most of them wouldn't care. A few might cry for a week tops, if even that much, but they wouldn't look back on life and think of it as the defining moment of their lives.

And Phil. Oh Phil. He was basically the reason I was still alive. I didn't know what he would do if I died, and I didn't want to find out. If he killed himself in response… I couldn't think of a world without Phil Lester. It would be such a sad place. Without that ray of sunshine.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to die or not. I knew that I wanted the pain to go away, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to kill myself. If I did die, I don't think I'd be that upset. I wasn't scared of death, it couldn't be much worse than the pain I already faced daily.

That's what life felt like now. Pain. I was drowning in it. I would pretend to be happy, for other people's sake. I didn't want them to worry about me, but I never really was. Even when happy things were happening I still had a feeling in my gut. Like a voice in my head telling me that things would never change. That I was going to be like this forever.

I loved living. I loved so many people and I knew that some of them even loved me in return, but it still wasn't enough. Some things just can't change feelings. Especially feeling so strong that they cause you to tear through your skin with a piece of metal. Feelings that make you wonder if life is worth living.

After I finished in the shower I still wrapped gauze over the cuts and taped them in place, I didn't need any blood stains on clothes, it would be too hard to explain. People didn't need me adding my problems to their own. I had tons of extra baggage. But that was the thing. It was mine.

So I continued on my way. Pretending that everything was okay when I felt like I was dying on the inside. I knew I wasn't good enough and I had come to terms with the fact that I never would be. I knew that I was screwed up and I couldn't change that. But I just wanted the pain to go away.

And it never did go away. The pain, that is. I got number sometimes. It shrunk or it grew. But it was always there. Sometimes I was able to hide it with a funny joke or just a smile, and sometimes I wasn't. There were days that I would get out of bed that Phil knew something was wrong. And he eventually did find out. It killed him to see how I was feeling. To see the real me. And that's what scared me most of all.

 **A/N**

 **Please don't take this the wrong way! I absolutely love Dan and I don't think any of these things about him. This is just a fic about if Dan suffered from Depression.**

 **What did you guys think? Should I write a sequel? I kind of have an idea but I'm not sure...**


End file.
